Best The French Poems
Time is fleeting when love's guise becomes sweet
When eyes bow before beauty's silent pose
To feel the soul emerge and not retreat
With such fragrant scent from a lover's rose
When hands clasp so tender a blushing face
To search quiet realms of expectation
And kiss in dim-light from a candle's trace
And reveal ecstasy's exaltation
With a breathless pause as lips are unbound
Where eyes again will lift their eyelids slow
And share breath's softest sighs of welcomed sound
When passionate tongues give gifts they bestow
To feel palms grow warmer as they perspire
When lips are kissed from surrender's desire
8/31/21 contest Anna and the French Kiss
sponsor Mystic Rose Rose
She’d kissed a lot of boys, and some kissed great,
but few of those guys understood romance.
She thought she knew what kissing style was best,
but she had not yet met the boy from France!
Into her life one day he sauntered in.
His smile was soft, his eyes as dark as coal.
She thrilled to feel his fingers on her skin
as with his gaze he deeply plumbed her soul.
When their lips touched, she melted into him.
It was a kiss like none she’d known before.
With happiness she filled up to the brim.
The young man was so easy to adore!
Like things most precious, that smooth, tender kiss
was part of Anna’s youth – a fleeting bliss.
Aug. 26, 2021
For the Anna And The French Kiss Poetry Contest of Mystic Rose Rose
Subtle feelings burst
Inside her supple breast
Creating overpowering longing
A thirst that had her wanting
Something only he could give her
Silence fell between them
When they found themselves alone
As his hand brushed hers gently
Struggling with a need to grasp it
She yearned for his touch against her
Soft hopes beckoned breathlessly
Intimacy captured on her thoughts
Leaving her with a craving only he could cure
With those twinkling eyes and smiling heart
Who taught her that his was worthy of her desire
Sensitive gestures of delight
Colored her in hues of insight
Whispering joy through her soul
When he found that her heart was an open door
Hungering for his tender embrace and warm touch
Soothing sighs linger on the air
Aching for the intimacy that is a fire
Blazing through her thoughts – a need
Reawakened by the most tender French kiss
Imploring her senses to fall praises across his lips
Stunned by the splendor of such a sensation
Anna and the French kiss brought alive inside her
Stirrings that linger, thrill and ignite
Affection so real it feels like it is thriving
Dancing in shadows, bringing love into the light
Anna and the French Kiss poetry contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose
August 16, 2021
Revolution – popular discontent –
From which revolt of third estate arose
Of burden’d citizens which all resent;
Monarch’s frivolities must be disposed.
Committee of public safety, in charge,
Dooms all to die at Jacobin command –
The guillotine strikes fear, makes numbers large
Embrace of death that variance demands.
All are ruled under the directory,
With those that led now dead, missing their heads.
Among them, none could guess trajectory
Of the directory torn now to shreds
Through one man, emperor by self ordained:
The great Napoleon, o’er France to reign.
When I was young, I loved french vanilla pudding. It was so very creamy, extra special with cut up bananas in it. Then came the day I had my tonsils out, bowls of french vanilla ice cream did follow. When I became a teenager, I fell hard for french vanilla coffee. Then followed by french vanilla coffee cream, sweet wonderful french vanilla filled my cup and the air. Then one moonlight night on a date, my french boyfriend took me into his strong arms. Held me oh so tight, I had a french kiss under the shining stars.
Date Written:8/16/2021
1 Place
Anna And The French KissContest Judged: 9/11/2021
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
Some would call me homeless. I call myself a traveler. In this city I traverse the wonder of human art and nature's beauty as if the two have melded together as one. The ornate iron railings seem to grow into the sweet smelling vines and flowers that live upon them. Hanging baskets with pink and purple impatiens and verdant ferns chuckle gently in the moist morning breeze as they adorn each balustrade. Hidden gardens beckon me as I walk past their gates painted with worn layers of lover's hands as they steal away behind secluded walls. They say I'm confused, yet I search to understand. Here, the past calls to me and I listen. Walking the streets and alley ways there is a sense of history, of lives that have loved and lost, of souls that linger in the heart of the buildings. Always searching, the walls can not contain their bewildered wandering. Inflicting confusion and sometimes pain on those they touch, they bath in the fountains and babble longing desires into each mind that seeks the peace of their soothing, gently bubbling water.
petals blush gently
the patient garden awaits
sweet stolen kisses
"For Sale," reads the sign on the window of the house before me. Delicate filigree rails frame the porch as I approach the old glass pane and peer through it. Inside I see a small room with peeling paint. Worn wooden floors trace the lives that have lived here. The ghost of Christmases past linger in the broken toys strewn across the floor. Brightly colored beaded memories of ages of Mardi Gras dangle from hooks on the wall. Upon the small corner desk I can see papers written in a fine pen like that of a poet's notes waiting an eternity for the completion of a long forgotten refrain. I feel the joy that once lived here and the pain of loss that remains.
stains of memories
the children's laughter lingers
a tear on my cheek
01/15/16
Dere once was a goil in da Quawta
Who never did do what she oughtta.
She stripped down one night
--Dat was really a sight--
Till NOPD come and caughtta!
The Tahitian sparrows won't sip,
The Albatross won't dive deep,
The pelican, the islander
Poorer than before,
Has to suffer and keep...
The agony...inside him and her,
And the world at large is watching,
The tyranny...
The imperialism that was once before,
Here it comes once again,
To poison your rips,
French foe..Foe,
Three two one go...bang!
Spare me Francois, it is Joe...
Who would suffer...
Go general...just go,
Deep...deep and on the surface blow
His guard couldn’t help snitchin’
When he washed grenades in his kitchen.
This general had a hazardous heart,
His name: Linoleum Blownapart.
A fan of Roger Federer
Strolled calmly on the court,
His goal a selfie with
His favorite player in the sport.
Security was lax enough
That no one blocked his path.
The organizers played it down
But Roger showed his wrath.
The fan was harmless and fourteen
But Federer was right;
Protection of the players
Should be rigorous and tight.
For years ago, a fan deranged
Stabbed Seles in the back
And it took years for Monica
To heal from that attack.
The French seemed rather cavalier
About this shocking breach,
But lessons from the past should keep
The players out of reach.
French military in the genocide of rwanda,
When African youths claim the departure of European militaries because of atrocities in Africa.
In 1994 when rwandan tutsi rebels were in negotiation
with the rwandan government ,french soldiers
were sent for so called protection
which was a special criminal mission
to destabilise central Africa region
and ended up dividing DRCongo.
French military found occasion
to start their criminal mission
when two African head of states were from the meeting
in one government aircraft which could land down
at the airport of Kigali where they were camping.
French military shot surface - to - air missiles
as the jet prepared to land in Kigali.
Presidents of burundi and rwanda died.
Their criminal mission of destabilising that part of Africa succeeded as tribal war did rise up.
some western media panicked people about the death
of the presidents.
The tutsi rebels were supported by the french military
to change the regime which was the plan of many westerners.
some civilians hutus( Bantus) and Tutsis ( Nilotic) killed each others.
It was genocide provoked by the killers
of the heads of states.
Many lies flew here and there about the hutus to kill
the tutsi as long as they killed each others
and that was the plan of the trouble makers.
Rwandan hutus were blackmailed to be genocideurs
when Kagame pointed french government officials
to be the masterminds of the criminal plans
from A to Z in rwanda, burundi and Congo.
So french government and other westerners protected Kagame to not appear to ICC because he denounced
them publicly.
The African young leaders have nothing to do with
the french and American militaries
on African lands
as they are not for peace
in Africa.
August 8/2023
Not yet long into the night, a translucent mist hovers,
cold as it settles upon the fine hairs.
Runty knobs form along the exposed skin,
an insufferable chill has come to the Quarter.
Secured dwellings sheltering those from who prey in the dark,
prowling the vulnerable, pilfering life from the innocent.
Gas streetlights lay witness to this harrowing theater,
stretching shadows, slithering the alleys for a pristine morsel.
Moist from a recent offering, hunger demands fruition,
devouring the still beating heart prolongs one's existence.
Gnawing at the bone, consuming of the flesh,
ensuring nourishment 'til the next illuminating full Luna.
Before the dawn reveals this carnage of the night,
a solitary horse drawn cart wanders the curbs,
collecting the discarded remains of those ravaged,
harboring the rumors only locals know to be true.
Awaiting the ensuring engorged orb,
I endure, I thirst, I hunger.
S'il vous plait, mon ange
The bruises will heal
Je te voir, cheri
I know how you feel
Je t'adore, mon cher
Your master won't bite
So hold still, my pet
Don't put up a fight...
À toi, pour toujours,
Bisous
a total news blackout
but anyone would be the same
the public never knew of it
did it matter?
they were doomed
from the start
my mate didn't care
about the FA Cup last week
the germans don't
care about the percieved
or actually non-existent
football rivalry with England
sweep the battle losses
under the steamer rug
if you win a tin cup
you'll refer to with pride
it took me a day and a
half to get over Nelson's
death
(stick the kettle on)
but that's when it came to life
Villeneuve an outstanding
time bomb
THE ENEMY IS AT SEA!
Trafalgar
like all historical events
momentous and noteworthy
immaterial and beside the point
I think the French and Greek have the most beautiful expression for the word "wife" in their languages: Ma Femme (French) and Gynaika Mou (Greek), which when translated to English resonate with a cave man ring…yea….MY WOMAN!!!! MY WOMAN.....Can you hear Tarzan bellowing that Ahaahhhhh...AHA AHHHHAAAA. OOOOHHHHH!!!! I simply ADORE these expressions...I LOVE THESE TWO LANGUAGES!!!! My Woman!!! Possessive…Yea! The only way to be!!!
Ok, you polyglots...(a word with roots in the glorious Greek language..meaning Poly..many...glosa...tongues)...I know that you can also say epouse....and sizigos, but why would you want to be civilized when you can say......MA WOMAN!!!! Rock on, French and Greek....Hmmmmmm...French and Greek men....lovely! ;)
HA HA HA HA!
Yea...told you it was going to be a silly post!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Parlez vous Francais???? Melate Ellenika????? ;)